(_Polioptila cA|rulea_) Gnatcatcher family
_Called also_: SYLVAN FLYCATCHER
_Length_--4.5 inches. About two inches smaller than the
English sparrow.
_Male_--Grayish blue above, dull grayish white below. Grayish
tips on wings. Tail with white outer quills changing gradually
through black and white to all black on centre quills. Narrow
black band over the forehead and eyes. Resembles in manner and
form a miniature catbird.
_Female_--More grayish and less blue, and without the black on head.
_Range_--United States to Canadian border on the north, the
Rockies on the west, and the Atlantic States, from Maine to
Florida; most common in the Middle States. A rare bird north
of New Jersey. Winters in Mexico and beyond.
_Migrations_--May. September. Summer resident.
In thick woodlands, where a stream that lazily creeps through the
mossy, oozy ground attracts myriads of insects to its humid
neighborhood, this tiny hunter loves to hide in the denser foliage of
the upper branches. He has the habit of nervously flitting about from
twig to twig of his relatives, the kinglets, but unhappily he lacks
their social, friendly instincts, and therefore is rarely seen.
Formerly classed among the warblers, then among the flycatchers, while
still as much a lover of flies, gnats, and mosquitoes as ever, his
vocal powers have now won for him recognition among the singing birds.
Some one has likened his voice to the squeak of a mouse, and Nuttall
says it is "scarcely louder," which is all too true, for at a little
distance it is quite inaudible. But in addition to the mouse-like
call-note, the tiny bird has a rather feeble but exquisitely finished
song, so faint it seems almost as if the bird were singing in its
sleep.
If by accident you enter the neighborhood of its nest, you soon find
out that this timid, soft-voiced little creature can be roused to
rashness and make its presence disagreeable to ears and eyes alike as
it angrily darts about your unoffending head, pecking at your face and
uttering its shrill squeak close to your very ear-drums. All this
excitement is in defence of a dainty, lichen-covered nest, whose
presence you may not have even suspected before, and of four or five
bluish-white, speckled eggs well beyond reach in the tree-tops.
During the migrations the bird seems not unwilling to show its
delicate, trim little body, that has often been likened to a
diminutive mocking-bird's, very near the homes of men. Its graceful
postures, its song and constant motion, are sure to attract attention.
In Central Park, New York City, the bird is not unknown.
[Illustration: BARN SWALLOW]
[Illustration: MOURNING DOVE]